


we know the words but it's not enough

by cresswell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Octavia nudges Bellamy in the right direction, and the one time she doesn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we know the words but it's not enough

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know, i don't know, i don't know. bellamy just has feelings.

**01.**

The thing about Clarke Griffin is that she totally freaks him out.

Like, in all the best ways. But still. She can make former assaulters shrink with just her gaze, which is just terrifying. Cool, but terrifying. And she's made everyone love her- although maybe  _made_  is the wrong word: she seems just as surprised by all the admiration and affection as he does. He wonders if she's got some voodoo magic she's been hiding from him.

His original plan was to hate her (he talked big by saying he wanted her dead, but come  _on_ , she saw through his asshole facade right away.) It was all going more or less according to plan until he realized he actually needed her to lead their people, and the realization didn't upset him as much as he thought it would.

"I just," he tries, breaking off into a huff of frustration. "Everyone likes her so much.  _Why_  does everyone like her so much?"

He's currently lying on his back, staring up at the tattered roof of his tent, and Octavia is perched on a makeshift table. He knows her well enough to know she's probably grinning in amusement, like his frustration and bafflement is  _so funny_ , and he throws a sideways glare at her.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe it's because she never threatened to kill anybody."

Bellamy sits up in indignation, glowering at her. "Octavia! You're supposed to be on my side!"

Octavia rolls her eyes, digging dirt out from beneath her fingernails with one of his knives. "Oh, please. Clarke's saved my ass countless times. What have you ever done? Banned me from seeing my boyfriend?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about  _kept you alive for years?"_

"True," she agrees, standing up and ruffling his hair, making him squawk in surprise. "Which is why I owe you the truth, and not what you want to hear."

"And what  _is_  the truth, then?"

Octavia looks at him like he's being dense. He probably is. All he wanted to do was whine about Clarke for a few minutes, but she just had to go and make it difficult. "The truth is that she's good for us, and you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Bellamy frowns. "I'm not familiar with the word."

She rolls her eyes so forcefully he's afraid they're going to come loose. "Give it up, Bell. You're jealous that the rest of us like her just as much- if not more- than you." One side of her mouth twitches. "Or you're jealous that she puts all her attention on us instead of you?"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Bellamy snaps.

"Which part?"

He pauses to think. "Both."

Octavia shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder, like the whole ordeal is tiring and boring. "Whatever. You're hopeless." She slides her feet back into her boots, pulling the tent flap open. "We done here?"

He scowls at her back as she leaves. What a traitor.

 

**02.**

Winter sneaks up on them, and before they know it, they're dragging their feet through snow. In all honesty, they should be more worried about hypothermia and starving, but they're all just a little preoccupied with the fact that there's  _snow_.

Almost all of them, anyway.

Clarke stands in the dropship's doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and bites her lip nervously as she watches all the kids roll around in the snow. She looks small and pale and cold, and she probably gave all her extra jackets to other kids, and Bellamy shakes his head in exasperation. "You shouldn't be standing out here after preaching to us about getting so cold that our fingers fall off."

She jumps a little at the sound of his voice, relaxing visibly when she sees it's him. "It's called hypothermia, okay, it's a real thing-"

"I believe you," he interrupts, leaning against the dropship beside her and blowing into his hands. "But for real. You should be inside where it's warm."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I'm taking care of our people. And why not give this speech to everyone?"

"Because everyone won't listen."

"And you think I will?"

He ponders this. "No. But you're our only doctor, so hopefully you'll see reason and-"

"Oh, god," she groans, sounding like Octavia. "Not this bullshit again."

He's a little surprised, and he frowns. "What?"

"Whenever you need to justify being an asshole to me, you say 'oh, it's because you're our only doctor'." Her imitation of his voice is inaccurate and he is offended. "But I'm so much more than just a doctor!" She jabs a finger into his chest, doing that thing where she somehow makes herself look powerful and threatening despite being tiny. "I'm a person, Bellamy. Why don't you treat me like one?"

He recovers from his initial shock quickly enough. "Are you done with your soap opera, Princess? Because we've got stuff to do."

He makes it about ten steps before she shouts "You  _asshole!"_  and there's an explosion of coldness at the back of his head.

He whirls around, wild-eyed, pulling chunks of snow out of his hair. "Clarke," he seethes, his voice low. "What the hell?"

She stalks towards him, another ball of snow in her hand, and she should not be allowed to look this threatening. "I'm so sick of your crap."

"Yeah?" He bends down to scoop his own snowball. "Well, maybe  _I'm_  sick of  _your_ -"

He gets cut off when her snowball hits him straight in the face.

She lets out a startled laugh before clapping a hand over her mouth, like she's surprised by her own good aim, and Bellamy wipes snow and water off his face with his sleeve. "Oh, it's  _on_."

He hurls his snowball at her with all his might, and it hits her ass as she scrambles away. He laughs and she squeals in what he thinks is a mixture of surprise and joy, and he watches as she throws herself behind a dead, snow-covered hedge. "Hey, that's cheating."

"Is it?" She challenges, and he can hear the laughter in her voice. "All's fair in war, Bellamy." A snowball soars out and hits him in the shoulder.

"That's not even the quote," he says, but he's laughing, crouching low and sneaking up to the side of the bush. She's quicker than him, scrambling around the other side so they circle the bush like they're stalking prey. She's got a wild grin on her face, her arms loaded with snowballs, and the flush that covers her cheeks is decidedly pretty.

"I don't have all day, Princess," Bellamy taunts, feigning to his right. She shrieks and tosses a snowball in his general direction before spinning on her heel and running. He lurches after her, hardly noticing the confusion on their people's faces as Clarke shoves past them, haphazardly throwing snowballs over her shoulder.

He catches up with her just as she passes into the forest, gripping her around her waist. She screams as he tosses her over his shoulder, gripping the back of his jacket to steady herself. Out of nowhere, she shrieks in almost maniacal laughter, her whole body wriggling. Bellamy stops in mild alarm. "Are you okay?"

"Your hand," she wheezes, covering his fingers with her own on her side. "I'm ticklish, oh god." It takes only a beat before she's straining around to look at him, eyes wide in fear. "Bellamy, don't you _dare-"_

Her words get cut off with more out-of-control laughter, and it probably sounds to the others like she's losing her mind, but he doesn't care. He's grinning as he spins them around, dancing his fingers along her side, and she's clinging onto him for her dear life. But he's already unsteady with her added weight, and the dizziness makes him lose his balance, sending them both tumbling into the snow.

She lands half-on-top of him somehow, snow sticking in her hair, her hands spread out warm and small on his chest. He's still seeing double, but he's aware that he's laughing, and he can hear her laughing, too. It's only a matter of time before one of the kids comes to check and make sure they haven's lost their minds- and they might have, who knows- but for now, as their laughter fades, earth feels unusually still and quiet.

"It's not as soft as it looks," Clarke muses, rubbing a flake of snow between two fingers. She's wearing gloves, but they're fingerless, and she presses her hands lose to her chest, shivering hard enough that Bellamy can feel the movement against his body.

He swallows hard. Clarke's gaze immediately goes to the motion, her eyes on his throat in a way that would be predatory if she was another girl. But she's not. Everything is bright around them, making it seem like they're in another world, and Clarke's breath creates mesmerizing patterns in the air.

"Um, we should probably get back," Bellamy says, finding his voice and having to pause to clear his throat. He suddenly notices his hands on either side of her waist, the dip and curve of her hips evident even beneath her jacket. "Before we freeze to death and all."

Clarke blinks once, as if she's just remembering that hypothermia exists, and then she's scrambling off of him and to her feet. "Oh. Yeah."

She's just helping pull him to his feet when they can hear footfalls crunching in the snow. Octavia appears, snowflakes caught in her hair, and smirks. "I found them," she calls over her shoulder. "I think they're fine."

Bellamy glances at Clarke out of the corner of his eye. She's wearing the expression she usually wears around him, one that says I'm Annoyed And Unamused, her previous look of soft excitement completely gone. "We're fine, Octavia."

"We heard you screaming or something," Octavia replies. "We thought maybe Bellamy had finally lost his head and tried to kill you-"

"Give me some credit," Bellamy snaps, but it's mostly just to cover the fact that he's blushing. Clarke's face is still unreadable, and as he watches, she crunches past Octavia and back towards the camp. His sister immediately waggles her eyebrows and Bellamy feels himself rolling his eyes. "Don't even."

"Bell has a crush," she singsongs, looping her arm through his and straining against his reluctance to move. "Bell likes the princess!"

"Octavia, you are ridiculous and I am offended."

"You're so easy to read, honestly." She gives up on trying to get him to move and turns around to grin at him instead. "Everything's right there on your face."

"You're talking about _Clarke_ , Octavia," he responds, trying to sound like it's not one hundred percent true. "I wouldn't go for that even if she was the last person on earth."

"I didn't say you were going to go for it," Octavia says, a goofy smile on her face. "I just said you _liiiiiike_ her."

"Oh my god." Bellamy stomps away from her, hearing her cackle behind him. "I should have left you under that damn floor."

"Hey!" Octavia socks him in the shoulder. It doesn't hurt the teeniest bit. "Just because you're frustrated that you're so emotionally constipated doesn't mean you can take that anger out on me."

"You are the bane of my existence."

She beams at him. "I love you too."

 

 **03.**  

Clarke squints at the surface of the lake, like if she focuses hard enough she'll be able to see the bottom. "So I just... stab?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Bellamy's teaching her how to fish. In reality, they have enough material to make proper fishing rods, but all their mechanically-inclined people are busy making walkie talkies and bullets. So Clarke's holding a shittily-carved spear in her pretty hands, looking like the ancient goddess Athena or something, and Bellamy really needs to stop thinking about her before it gets out of hand. "You have to be still, and then you wait for a movement and stab."

"Okay." Clarke exhales like she's trying to steady herself, and it brings an amused smile to Bellamy's face. It's still incredibly cold, but with all the crops dead and many animals hibernating, this is pretty much their last resort. Their pants are rolled up high so the fabric won't get wet and Bellamy's paranoid that Clarke's lips are turning a little blue.

There's a flash of silver in the water and Bellamy nods, watching to make sure she doesn't actually stab herself in the foot or something. "There."

Clarke sees it and slices the spear down with more force than he'd been expecting. Water flies up and splashes him in the face, and Clarke swears. "I don't think I got it."

"That's okay," Bellamy says easily, aware that if Octavia were here, she'd comment on how uncharacteristically patient he's being. "It was your first try. Wait and try again."

Clarke is actually less patient than he is, something he learns while watching her huff in annoyance at the lack of fish that appear. "If you start whining, I'm going to push you in."

"No you won't," Clarke says automatically, because he won't. "And I'm not whining. I just didn't realize it'd be so... slow."

"You got a hot date or something?"

It's a joke- at least he means it as one- but she averts her eyes and he tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "No." But the answer sounds unsure, and Bellamy pokes his spear into the lake bottom like a petulant kid. "Not the type you're thinking, anyway."

He looks up sharply at her, startled to find that she's already looking at him. "I wasn't thinking anything."

"Okay," she says evenly, turning her gaze back to the water. "But if you were wondering. I told Finn I needed to talk to him at dinner tonight. I'm going to tell him that we're really done and he should stop trying."

He studies the soft lines of her face. "I thought you were already done."

"We are- at least, I am, but I guess Finn didn't get the memo."

"Right." He focuses on watching the water for ripples, but none appear. "Well, if he keeps giving you trouble... let me know and I'll take care of it."

It's Clarke's turn to side-eye him, and the feeling of her gaze on him makes him self-conscious. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

He just nods stiffly, his heart doing that awful stuttery thing, and prays to any and all gods that they don't lapse into an awkward silence. The gods must like him today, because he sees a ripple and points. "There!"

Clarke looks around, whipping her head so fast that her hair smacks her in her face. "I don't see anything!"

He grips her hands in his, hearing her inhale sharply against his ear, and drives the spear into the water. They're so close like this, with his chest flush against her back and their knuckles white on the spear, and it's only when red wisps flit through the water that Bellamy jerks out of it. "You did it!"

Clarke stares for a moment, her mouth parted, before turning to gaze wide-eyed at Bellamy. "Technically _you_ did it."

"Nah." He pulls the spear from the icy water, examining the dead fish on the end. "You earned it."

She looks like she's going to argue, but he can tell she's secretly flattered, and she wades out to dry off her legs while he adds the newest fish to the bag. They make a good team, he thinks, and the version of himself that was here on day one (and died with Charlotte or Dax, probably) would be repulsed at the notion. But he's not now, because he needs Clarke and he knows it, just like she needs him and she knows it.

"We should head back," she says as he dries off his legs, bending down to tie her boots. The sun is setting and the last rays cast her hair in a glowing orange light. "They'll be hungry."

"It's not enough for everyone."

"I know." She straightens up, taking his spear so he has both hands free to carry the sack. "But we still have some meat saved. We can give the fish to the younger kids."

Again, he marvels at how much he's changed since they arrived on earth. He's not sure if he's just changed around her or if he's changed _because_ of her, and the not-knowing sets him on edge. The trek back to camp is quiet, tense because of the ever-present threat of Grounders, and Bellamy keeps his gun hoisted up as he follows Clarke over the uneven ground.

The first person they see inside the wall is Jasper, and Clarke bounds over and grips his jacket sleeve. "Look!" She rummages inside the bag, pulling her fish out with a grin. "Bellamy helped me catch my first fish!"

He's not sure what it is, but something about the whole scene is almost unbearably endearing. He's seen Clarke light up before, but never because of something he did, and it makes an undeniable warmth spread through his entire being.

He realizes she's looking at him, eyes bright and smile wide, waiting for a response. "Oh, yeah. She was a natural."

"Oh my god, I was _not,"_ Clarke argues, but she's laughing. Jasper just smiles at them, looking a little bewildered, and Bellamy gently removes the limp fish from Clarke's grasp.

"We should start cleaning these," he says, but Clarke shakes her head.

"Nah, we can have someone else do it. We need to sit by the fire to warm up."

It's still cold as all hell, so he can't really refuse. Not that he'd be able to refuse her anyway. But still. They sit side by side near the fire, Clarke's eyes shining gold in the light, and Bellamy gives the few kids around them pointed looks that he hopes read Go Away Now Or You'll Be Sorry. It must work, because they scatter, Clarke oblivious to the whole thing.

"Thanks for today," she says a moment later, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looks at her in mild surprise. Her face is settled into a soft smile, contentment practically radiating off of her, and he wants nothing more than to make her feel that way all the time. "What for? I dragged you along to get food."

She shrugs, her smile not faltering for even a moment, and hugs her knees to her chest. "I don't know. It was nice." She looks at him for a moment before looking down at the fire, her cheeks turning pink. "I like hanging out with you."

He thinks she's afraid he's going to laugh at her or something, which is a reasonable fear, if he's being honest. But he feels the need to assure her that he won't; that that means more to him than he's willing to admit. "Of course. Any time, Princess."

It must be enough, because Clarke smiles up at him again before her eyes snag on something over his shoulder. She's up in a second, the ratty blanket in her lap falling to the ground. "Raven! Guess what Bellamy and I did today?"

Bellamy laughs to himself, hearing Raven's amused response in the background, and then a shadow's looming over him. He knows who it is without even looking, and he groans, massaging his forehead. "Not now, Octavia."

"You've got it _bad,"_ she says, voice pitying, and then kicks his knee lightly with the toe of her boot. "You should do something about it."

That's all she says, walking away and leaving his stomach in knots behind her.

 

**04.**

Everything goes fine for the next few days, with him and Clarke taking to eating dinner together every night. It's not until one morning when he's on his morning patrol and he comes across Jasper and Octavia, both standing with their hands on their hips, their heads tilted back to gaze up at a tree. "Come on, Clarke, just tell us what's wrong."

"What's going on?" Bellamy asks. They're a way in the forest, but not deep enough for him to be worried.

Octavia turns to him with a frown. "She was up there to get special sap or bark or something, but now she won't come down."

"What?" Bellamy squints up. Clarke is sitting high up in the tree, only visible because all the leaves are dead and gone, and she peers back down at them. Jasper is still trying to talk her down, but Bellamy can tell by her far-away look that she's not paying attention. "Is she scared of heights or something?"

"Maybe? I don't know." Octavia shrugs. "You can go up there too if you so please."

He fidgets with the hem of his jacket, suddenly unsure. "What makes you think she'll want to see me?"

Octavia gives him a look that terrifies him a little. "Oh, for the love of god." She actually whacks him on the back of the head, heard enough that he gapes at her. "Go up there, you big doofus."

He grumbles as he approaches the tree trunk, tilting his head to look up at Clarke. She's pretty far up. "Clarke? Can I come up?"

She peers down at him, face blank, and nods. He heaves himself up onto the first branch. Climbing it should be easy enough, especially with all the leaves out of the way, and if Clarke could do it, he sure can. 

"Hey." He pulls himself up on a branch near hers, pausing to lean his head back against the trunk and just breathe. She looks at him with curious eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that he thinks means she's close to tears. "Let's talk about it, okay?"

"I'm fine," she says fiercely, but she's not, and she turns her head to wipe her sleeve across her eyes roughly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you, Clarke," he says, touching her shoulder. She snaps her head back around, wide-eyed gaze on his hand, and he presses on. "You're allowed to be sad."

"I don't know what I am," she says, her face falling apart, and Bellamy feels an ache in his chest. "I mean, I just- everything's going wrong."

"With Finn?"

She flinches. "Yeah, but also everything else. I just feel so messed up all the time, like I can't-" she gestures like she can't get the words out, clearly frustrated, and stares at her feet. "Do you know what depression is?"

Bellamy's surprised at the subject jump, but he nods. "Yeah. It's pretty rare now, though."

"It was on the Ark," Clarke corrects. "They'd give us standard low-dose antidepressants every day, did you know that? But here, we don't have that." She hunches over her knees, which are folded to her chest. "It's probably nothing. But I feel this... emptiness. Just a lack of something." She laughs suddenly, the sound self-depreciating and harsh, and shakes her head. "I'm so stupid."

"You're not," he says insistently, sliding his hand to the crook of her elbow and then to her wrist. "Nothing's missing from you. You're complete with or without Finn, with or without your mom, with or without your dad. And we're going to figure this out, okay?" He waits for her to look at him before he goes on, needing her to understand. "We're going to take care of you."

She sighs, resting her head against the trunk of the tree, and looks at him with an expression he doesn't recognize. It's soft and vulnerable, and she takes his hand. "You mean so much to me, Bellamy."

He's not sure what makes him do it, but the words make him feel more secure than he has in a long time, more _sure_ about everything- and then he's leaning forward, his heart in his throat, just knowing that he wants to console her and maybe himself and he doesn't really believe in love but she might make him want to.

Their lips hardly brush, the current of electricity between their mouths unmistakable, and then Clarke is jerking back with a surprised sound. Bellamy remains in the position like an idiot, leaning forward into her space while she leans away, her eyes wide. When everything catches up to him, he leans back as well, feeling his cheeks flood with heat. "I'm sorry. I- I misread-"

"No," Clarke interrupts, voice too high, and kicks her legs down off her branch. "I think I'm going to go back down now."

"Clarke, wait," he says, but she keeps sliding from branch to branch, and he feels like an idiot.

 

**+01.**

When Octavia had said to do something about his feelings for Clarke, he had assumed she'd meant something along the lines of making a move. But since that obviously hadn't worked, he'd decided to take the opposite approach.

The girl beneath him is too tall to be Clarke, too lanky; she's smooth lines where Clarke is soft curves. Her hair is red, but she's the closet he could find to a blonde. Her sounds are ridiculous. Not sexy-ridiculous, but ridiculous-ridiculous. He figures if he keeps his eyes closed while they do this, he'll be able to pretend it's Clarke, like he can literally fuck her out of his system.

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Octavia's tells him that's impossible.

The girl comes first, breathless moans coming from her mouth, and Bellamy keeps his eyes shut and imagines that it's Clarke there, with her head thrown back and her legs hitched high on his back and her bottom lip wedged between her teeth and-

He unravels, mouthing Clarke's name against the girl's shoulder, and rolls off her immediately after. She doesn't like it- she pulls at his arm, trying to get him to go again or cuddle or some other shit that's not going to happen, and then Bellamy hears the sound of his tent flaps fluttering open.

The redhead shrieks, pulling a blanket across herself, and Bellamy follows her gaze to the tent's opening. His heart drops.

Clarke's face is completely open and vulnerable, her shock and hurt shaking Bellamy to his core, and she's rushing back out before he can say anything to stop her. The redhead sneers. "What's _her_ problem?"

"Get out," Bellamy snaps, already tugging his pants on. He yanks on his shirt but doesn't bother to grab his jacket, already pushing out after Clarke.

She walks fast when she wants to. He can only see the glint of her hair in the light of the fire as she passes into the forest and he runs after her. He can hear Octavia calling his name in a worried tone but he ignores her, searching in vain for Clarke in the nighttime darkness.

She's leaning against a tree, probably trying to remain out of sight, but he sees her nonetheless, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. "Clarke, I can- I can explain-"

"There's nothing to explain," is all she says, toneless, but Bellamy can see the glitter of tears on her cheeks. "You're allowed to fuck any girl you want."

She spits it out like she knows it will hurt him and he drops his hand from where it had been mid-way to her own. He searches her face, hoping for a flicker of something, anything- but there's nothing. "Clarke, please."

"You tried to kiss me," she says, the words tumbling out, her eyes wide and hurt. "I can't believe you."

"I just- you pulled away," he says, his hands splayed palm-up in front of him. "And that's okay, because I didn't want to push you. But I just-" he runs his hand through his hair, peering up at the starry night sky. "I just have these _feelings."_

She stays quiet, eyes illuminated in the low lighting.

"I mean, it's just- it's so stupid," he tries. "I'm not that kind of guy. But for some reason I want to hold your hand and sleep with you- not even in _that_ way, although I'd be down for that too- but what I'm saying is that I don't know anything about loving someone but I want to love you and I think I could." He pauses, breathing in the cold night air, watching a cloud billow from her lips. "She was nothing. She was my way of trying to get over you. And it didn't even work." He searches her face again, feeling foolish for pleading to a girl who doesn't want to hear it. "Please don't get empty. Don't shut me out."

"I don't know," she says finally, her voice trembling, and her stone-cold expression breaks. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won't go fucking another girl every time I don't live up to your expectations?"

"Clarke," Bellamy says, letting out an incredulous laugh. "God, Clarke. There is literally no world in which you'd not live up to my expectations."

Her cheeks flush, but she remains distant. "I'm not like your other girls," she warns. "I don't want to want anything you can't give."

"Anything," Bellamy pleads, voice desperate, and can't stop himself from reaching out and touching her hair. His fingers brush her cheek when he does and she makes a small sound, her head falling against the tree trunk, and it's like there's a magnetic force pulling Bellamy in until he's cupping her jaw, his other hand brushing the skin just under her shirt hem. "I'll give you anything. Just- please let me-"

She nods frantically, her eyelids fluttering shut, and he kisses her without hesitation. She makes another soft sound against his mouth, her hands immediately knotting in his hair, and he get so lost in her. He's waited for this so long and he presses her against the tree, their bodies arched together, moving his lips against hers again and again and again. The moon could probably fall from the sky and it wouldn't be enough to get him to stop.

She turns her head away to breathe and his lips slip against her jaw, the skin soft, and they both breathe heavily for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his. Her fingers are still in his hair, her thumb rubbing small circles against the nape of his neck, and he presses a kiss to the juncture beneath her jaw before lifting his head to look at her.

She stares back, the corners of her lips hovering on the edges of a smile, and Bellamy swallows hard. "I need you," he says, quiet in the dark, and strokes his thumb along her cheekbone. She nods into his palm.

"I need you too."


End file.
